Falling Down
by SnarkyMuch2
Summary: Set before Jack's return. Owen sees Ianto falling apart and he knows he can't just watch it happen. He tries to help the only way he knows how, by being himself. Warning for: Self harm, suicidal themes, and snark. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Falling Down

**Author**: JelloPubes

**Pairing:** Ianto/Owen

**Rating**: T

**Warnings:** References to Self Harm, Suicidal themes

**Summary:** Set before Jack's return. Owen sees Ianto falling apart and tries to help him.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

><p>When Owen had joined Torchwood, it wasn't with the desire to lead. But life had a funny way of working out, and Owen now found the weight of Torchwood Three sitting firmly on his narrow shoulders.<p>

It happened through necessity. After the Captains great and mysterious departure, the inner workings of the hub began to crumble, and bickering and snide comments ensued.

The stick Ianto kept smuggled up his ass seemed to have grown exponentially, as he now never so much as sat down anymore. Gwen had become a fretting wreck, constantly complaining about the moral obligations to the community, and Tosh had delved into her work, dissembling ever small alien device she got her hands on. But other than complaining, dissembling and non sitting, nothing was really getting down, and Owen being the pragmatic doctor that he was, stepped up and took control.

Using his year of experience ordering around nurses and interns, he slowly managed to return a bit of normalcy to the job. Things were getting down again; they were even running successful ops without anyone dying or losing any limbs. All in all, Owen thought he made a fairly good leader. Maybe they didn't need Captain America after all.

But as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks stacked up to a month, Owen began to see things weren't exactly as well oiled as he thought them to be. Ianto had, in true Ianto style, faded into the backdrop, which in itself wasn't too concerning. But the more that Owen watched him, the more he realized there was a definite problem brewing under Ianto's well composed exterior.

To the casual observer, he might appear stable, but to Owen, someone who had spent numerous hours cataloguing Ianto's every twitch, it was obvious something was very wrong.

If his suspicions were right, and the usually were, it was only a matter of time before the boy lost his shit entirely. He was so certain it was going to happen, in fact, Owen had started toting around a syringe of sedatives for just the upcoming occasion.

So that's how Owen came to be sitting on the steps that led to Jack's office, watching his charges below and waiting to catch a glimpse of the elusive Welshman.

Tosh was busy pulling apart some piece of alien tech that she thought might be an advanced GPS tracker, but Owen thought it looked more like a vibrator. But after weighing its size and shape, he decided it really was a bit big for that, but he supposed if you were to …

He was pulled from his musings by a flash of movement down below. _Ianto_. He watched him and ran his hand up to pocket and patted the syringe, assuring himself that he had it on him.

He watched his stiff movements around the Hub. The man was methodical; his was precise and calculated, and the way Ianto handled stress rubbed Owen the wrong way. It just wasn't natural if you asked him.

When Owen had come into the hub that morning, he thought he had finally succeeded in beating the Welshman to work, but to his surprise, he found Ianto had already arrived and was reassembling the coffee maker from what looked like a full on clean and polish session.

They both nodded and went about their business, but an hour later, Owen was stewing again. He wanted to know what he was doing at the hub so early in the morning. There must have been some other reason than some need to molest the coffee maker.

To settle his nerves, Owen pulled up the CCTV footage of the hub and started scanning through the past few days. He quickly discovered that Ianto was essentially living on a diet of coffee with the odd biscuit thrown in. But what he saw him doing in the wee hours of the morning, though, solidified just how fucked up the situation had become.

It was late, or early depending on how you viewed it, when Ianto reappeared through the cog door. Owen thought at first that maybe Ianto had forgotten something in the hub, but as he watched the footage of the young man, he realized something far odder was going on.

Ianto made his way through the lower corridors. He paused at a closet, where he retrieved a small pail and what appeared to be a bottle of bleach. Leaning forward, Owen continued to watch with rapt attention. All the while tabulating all the possible diagnostic codes he was going to be scratching on Ianto's chart later.

The cameras trailed his progress until he came to an all too familiar room, Lisa's room. Fuck. He didn't need to see anymore to know how fucked up this was, but he couldn't look away. It was like watching a train wreck happen.

Kneeling on the floor, Ianto poured the bleach into the pail, and without gloves, Owen noted, he reached into the solution with a brush. Bloody hell! That stupid fucking tosser! Owen was fuming as he watched the young man show complete disregard for his own health. Slowly, Ianto began scrubbing at the stained concrete. Having finally seen enough, Owen flipped the screen off and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He knew he needed to put an end to this before Ianto did any more damage to himself.

Because despite appearances, Owen really did give a damn about his team, including Ianto. Especially Ianto. He knew that he could trust the others to come to him if they were hurt, but Ianto, he knew too well how good he was at hiding things. And it worried him.

'Ianto watching' had now consumed the rest of Owen's day. He studied his every move, waiting for the right time to pounce. He knew the girls wouldn't understand if he jumped on the Welshman's back and plunged a needle into his neck, so he needed to time his assault for when they either A) weren't looking, or B) weren't there. He was partial to B, but would take whatever he could get.

As uptight man passed beneath him again, Owen decided to act.

"Oi! Jones!" he shouted down at the man below, causing him to jump and nearly drop the papers he was now carrying.

"Yes, Owen." He raised a brow and gave him that look, the one that exuded superiority, a look he was certain Ianto used just to annoy him.

"What are you doing?"

"I would think it to be obvious, but apparently not." Ianto took a breath and let it out slowly, appearing to be trying desperately to maintain his patience. "This"—he held the papers up—"is work. It is what we are paid to do. Not that you would know anything about that."

Owen's face twisted into a grin. "Actually, I am quite familiar with concept. That's why you are going to follow me down to the med bay. You, mate, are due for a physical."

"And if I refuse?"

"I sedate you and do it anyway."

He narrowed his eyes at Owen and took a step back. "You wouldn't."

"I would. Don't think I haven't noticed your little freakish habits lately." Owen glanced down at the reddened skin on Ianto's hands.

He caught him looking and quickly stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Owen, noticing his subtle movements backward, reached into his pocket, ready to grab the syringe when the rift alarm went off. Fuck.

Ianto smiled smugly and nodded towards the door. "After you."

xXx

The alert turned out to be nothing more than another piece of interstellar garbage falling through rift, but it had given Ianto the distraction needed to evade Owen. Immediately after returning, he had skirted off to archives, muttering something about needing to reorganize isle 4 of the storage room.

Owen grinned. He knew exactly what was wrong with isle 4, as he had been its undoing.

When he was finally out of sight, Owen made his move. He jogged over to Tosh's workstation and looked over what the girls were up to. Gwen was texting Rhys, and Tosh was back to fiddling with the alien vibrator/GPS unit.

"It's been a long day. Why don't you girls take off early tonight? You can finish up whatever that" – he gestured to the small pile of metal bits on her desk – "is tomorrow. Go get some rest."

Gwen eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed her jacket and headed toward the cog door before Tosh had even gotten up.

"You too, Tosh. We'll be fine. Ianto and I will be heading out right behind you." Owen had to restrain himself from grabbing the back of the woman's shirt and pushing her out the door.

"Alright, well … have a good night, Owen. See you tomorrow."

He put a hand on her back and hurried her along. "Yep, tomorrow, sure thing."

He breathed a sigh of relief as the cog door rolled closed. A wicked grin spread across his face as he realized that he had done it. He had Ianto alone.

Owen checked his watch; Ianto normally appeared from the archives around five. It was half four. Perfect. Owen took the steps down to his med bay two at a time, gleefully humming as he gathered the necessary supplies to sedate and restrain the Welshman.

For a moment, he considered grabbing a stun gun, but decided against it, Hippocratic Oath and all.

"Ianto!" he called the name out loud enough to echo around the hub. "Time for your check-up."

He paused and listened for a reaction. Nothing. "Oi! Yan! Stop wanking it and get your ass up here now!"

Owen grumbled as he made his way down the stairs, pausing by the doorway to the lower levels.

He had expected to hear something in response, but only got more silence. A trickle of concern began to seep in around his irritation. Ianto was a lot of things, but it wasn't like him to blatantly ignore him. He should have at least slammed a cabinet in some passive aggressive tantrum.

Concern finally won over and with one last check of his pockets, he headed down into the archives.

The fact that Ianto found these dank walls comforting said a lot to Owen about just how fucked in the head he really was. He felt kinda bad for the kid, although he would never admit it aloud. Ianto had really gotten the shit end of the stick. He deserved better than the way Jack flounced out on him.

"Ianto," Owen called in sing song voice. His concern mounted, as again, there was no response. His paced quickened as the heavy feeling in his gut urged him forward.

He prayed he didn't find him swinging from a pipe or laying dead with his wrists split open. Was he so far gone he would top himself? He realized he had no idea if he was suicidal. Fuck. Owen berated himself for not knowing the answer.

"Ianto, answer me now dammit!" His tone left no room for misunderstanding. Owen meant business. He was in doctor mode.

He skidded to a halt as he saw an all too familiar pair of black shoes peeking out from beside a desk. Stepping over the fallen man's legs, Owen quickly moved his fingers to Ianto's neck, feeling for any flicker of life. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the pulse fluttering under his touch.

After quickly assessing his breathing and finding it satisfactory, he moved onto a more extensive examine. Pulling out his penlight, he checked his pupils; they both were equal and responsive.

Using the tips of his fingers, he began carding through Ianto's hair, feeling over his scalp for any sign of injury. Finding nothing, he moved on to his abdomen, cursing when he felt just how prominent his ribs were.

"Come on, Yan. Time to wakey, wakey." Owen slapped the unconscious man on the cheek. When he didn't stir, Owen used his knuckles to rub harshly against his sternum. That got a response.

His eyes blinked open and he groaned something that sounded like a curse.

He tried to push himself up, but the Owen was quick to place a hand on his shoulder to halt the movement. "Easy, you need to talk to me first, before I let you up."

He laid back and narrowed his at the doctor.

"Don't look at me like that, you stupid sod." Owen sat back on one knee. "Now, did you take anything or do anything which may have caused this?"

"Didn't do anything." Ianto looked disappointed by the slurring of his words. "Just remember feeling tired, dizzy. Then you were stabbing me in the chest."

"Trust me, that wasn't a stab." He punctuated his point by jabbing a finger into his chest. "I fully intend on making sure you are perfectly healthy before I kill you for being such an ignorant twat."

"Shut it, Owen."

Owen scoffed. "Look, Yan, I need to get some supplies. Can I trust you not to get up and tip the fuck over until I get back?"

His head rolled to the side, and he raised an eyebrow, making a noise that Owen took as agreement.

"Try and relax, I'll be quick."

"Can't wait, he said dryly.

Grumbling under his breath about stubborn, irritating Welshmen, Owen disappeared down the hall. When he reached the med bay, he grabbed his kit and hurried back. He had already narrowed down the list of possible reason for his fainting spell by the time he reached his side again.

True to his word, the Welshman had remained on the floor. Although, Owen thought it probably had more to do with his inability to get up, though, rather than complying with his request.

Pulling out the scanner, Owen began sweeping it over his prone form. His stomach lining was inflamed, probably from his all coffee diet and stress, and he found the reason for the stiff gait; the muscles of his lower back were practically seized up. He had to have been in pain.

He set the scanner down and took out a blood glucose meter. Pricking his finger, he checked his blood. He suspected it would come back low. He was showing all the signs of being hypoglycemic.

Unsurprisingly, he was right. Had the levels not been so low that they were frightening, he would have taken a moment to gloat about his diagnostic skills. But his blood sugar levels were ridiculously low, and Owen felt a genuine twinge of concern for his friend. He quickly pulled open his kit and grabbed an IV setup.

"So, tell me, Ianto, were you purposely trying to kill yourself, or are you just that daft you forgot to eat?" He snapped the tourniquet tightly around his arm, causing him to yelp in pain.

Owen wasn't just pissed at him; he was also pissed at himself. He was a doctor, and a good doctor at that. He should have seen the signs sooner, before things got to this. He was seriously regretting his decision not to have just tackled the man and jabbed him with a sedative days ago.

"W-what are you doing?" Ianto tried to pick up his head to see what was happening.

Owen ignored him as he inserted the cannula and taped the port in place.

"That hurt," he whined.

"It wouldn't have hurt nearly as much if I hadn't had to try twice because you were so dehydrated."

Owen hung the IV bag from edge of the desk and turned back to his kit.

"I'm dehydrated?"

"Yeah, among other things. Like I said before, were you trying to kill yourself?

"No."

"For someone not trying to die, you have been doing a great job neglecting yourself."

He closed his eyes as Owen began checking over his vitals again.

"You should be feeling a bit better in a few minutes. And while I have you here, I want to see your hands."

Ianto looked at Owen and then nodded and offered up his hands for inspection.

He had seen the footage, but once he pushed up the young man's sleeves, he could tell last night wasn't his first time pulling that weirdo act. His cuticles were red and jagged, and his skin was dry and there were some faint scars he would want an explanation for later. The skin on his knuckles was split and looked painfully sore; thankfully there was no sign of infection.

He rocked back on his heels and looked over him. He had done a psych rotation like everyone else in med school, but he was no expert. If he was going to be any help to him, he was going to need to do some research. It's not like he could just send him off to a regular therapist, he laughed to himself as he thought of what the referral page would have to say. No, this was going to have to stay in-house.

But Owen wasn't Jack, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start shagging the fucker just to cheer him up.

A soft snore drew Owen's attention away from his thoughts. The stubborn twat had managed to fall asleep on the cold floor.

Unwilling to wake him just yet, Owen shrugged out of his lab coat and laid it over him. "What am I going to do with you?" He sat down in the chair beside him and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. It was going to be a long road ahead, but he wasn't going to let him go it alone, not anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

**Chapter 2**

The metal of the autopsy table felt cold against Ianto's skin. A shiver traveled down his spine. It was not something that anyone would find particularly relaxing.

"Alright, I'm done for now," Owen said, tossing his gloves into the bin.

Ianto slowly sat up, making sure the room wasn't going to shift beneath him again. Gravity did seem to have something against him lately. He kept his eyes down and avoided Owen's gaze as he slipped his shirt and jacket back on. Too tired to be bothered with his tie and waistcoat, he folded them and placed them under his arm.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Umm … Well, if we're all done here, I'm going to head out. Thank you, Owen." He chanced a look at the doctor and regretted it. Owen's face was hard, and his gaze seemed to see straight through to Ianto's core. He felt exposed, and he wanted more than anything to just disappear.

As he turned to walk toward the stairs, he could feel Owen's eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Ianto stopped, turning to look at the doctor in confusion. He hadn't expected to hear anymore from him tonight. "Is there something else?"

Owen let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Did you really think that after I put all that effort into fixing your ass today, I was going to just let you walk out of here and undo all my hard work?"

Ianto hadn't really thought about it until now, but after giving it a moment's consideration, yes, he did indeed believe Owen would let him. The doctor wasn't exactly known for his bedside manner or compassion. Leaving Ianto to go home and recover alone was exactly what he had expected.

Apparently, he had remained silent too long, and Owen felt the need to continue. "As I see it, you have two options. The first, which I'm most partial to, I lock you in a cell until I am sure you are no longer a danger to yourself."

Ianto felt his face blanch at the suggestion. Seeing this reaction, Owen smiled smugly.

"Or two," he continued. "You come home with me where I can keep an eye on you."

"E-excuse me?" The suggestion hit Ianto so hard he choked.

"You," he said slowly, pointing at Ianto, "come home with me." He then pointed at himself.

"I can't trust you to remember eat, sleep, or not harm yourself. So, those are the options. You either come home with me where I can keep an eye on you, or you go in a cell."

"For how long?"

Owen's brow furrowed as he walked up to Ianto, poking a finger into his chest. "Until I decide otherwise."

Ianto swallowed hard. The reality of the situation began sinking in. The simple act of breathing suddenly took on a new level of difficulty for Ianto. His knuckles were white as he gripped the metal railing; his other hand was clenched in a fist. He considered whether an escape was feasible. He might be able to get as far as the cog door, but the delay in opening would surely forfeit any head start he had. The invisible lift wasn't an option either. No matter how he crunched the numbers, he was going to be stuck facing off with the irritable doctor. Again.

Owen folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side, awaiting a response. Ianto briefly considered walking himself down to the cells and plunking down on the hard shelf that posed as a bed, but then that would make Owen's day, and Ianto wasn't feeling that giving.

Using the last bit of energy he had left, Ianto took a breath and straightened his shoulders.

"Should I follow in my car or ride with you?"

xXx

Awkward didn't really begin to describe the feeling in the car on the way to Owen's flat. The brief stop at Ianto's place to retrieve some basic necessities was quick, and Owen never got further than an arm's reach the entire time.

The reality that Owen was deadly serious in his words was starting to sink in. He knew Owen wasn't a complete ass. He had always believed that underneath the shell of sarcasm and discontent that there was a decent human being, but seeing him suddenly acting so caring was … strange.

Overnight bag in hand, Ianto moved toward the door to his flat, but stopped when Owen turned and dashed toward the kitchen.

He heard the knocks and bangs of his cupboards being opened and slammed, followed by Owen's harsh voice. "Jesus, how can you live like this?"

"Owen?"

"Here, these will do." Owen appeared again caring a packet of Hobnobs, tossing them to Ianto.

He caught them, turning them in his hands for a moment. "Hobnobs?"

"Don't start with me. You need something in your stomach. It's not my fault you don't have shit to choose from."

Owen brushed past him and waved impatiently for Ianto to hurry up. "Get moving, I want to be home sometime tonight."

As they pulled away, Ianto attempted to slip the packet of biscuits down beside him, but was stopped when Owen's hand thumped him hard in the chest.

"Eat," Owen voice bordered on a growl, sparking a sudden interest in the Hobnobs that he hadn't felt before.

He peeled the package apart and ate in silence. It did nothing to settle his stomach. Actually, between the stress of being so exposed and the constant ache in his gut, he was feeling nauseous.

He knew Owen had more to say. It was obvious from his body language, the tension in his shoulders, the grip on the wheel, the disconcerting looks. There were even a few times when Owen's mouth opened only to snap closed again, followed by him clenching his jaw. Oh yes, Ianto was in for a speech.

When the car finally came to a halt, Ianto couldn't help but notice Owen wasn't making any move to get out. Ianto took an unsteady breath, desperately trying to rack his brain for something to say to break the tension. He didn't need to though. Owen seemed to have finally gotten his thoughts in order.

"Look, Ianto." Owen turned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know we've had our differences, but I do care about what happens to you, alright? So just … just try and work with me here. I really am trying to do the right thing for once."

Ianto was taken aback by the sudden change in personality. He had expected to be reprimanded, chastised, but not that.

Ianto nodded, his face betraying his confusion. "Okay."

"Good. Now that we have that sorted, let's get inside. I want you showered and fed, so I can chew your ass out properly."

Oh, apparently he didn't dodge that one after all.

xXx

Ianto stood in the shower, leaning his head against the cool tile and wondering just how his day had become such a mess. The water stung the skin of his hands, but he relished the feeling. The pain made him feel alive when every other part of him felt dead.

He heard the bathroom door open and footsteps approaching the shower. "Don't think you're going to hide in there all night, mate." Owen punctuated his words by flicking at the shower curtain.

"Do you have no social skills?"

"Ha, that's funny coming from a man that spends his day alone in a basement. Hurry up, I mean it. We need to talk."

He waited until he heard the door click closed before turning the water off and stepping out. He shrugged on a pair on track pants and a cotton tee. He felt naked without the protection of his suit. When at work, or around his colleagues, his suits let him feel safe, offering him a way to hide in the openness of the hub. But here at Owen's, he was left unprotected, completely vulnerable to his scrutinizing gaze.

The distinct smell of curry drew Ianto toward the kitchen. He was greeted by Owen, who was padding around barefoot in similar attire as himself. He gestured to the table where there were two plates set out, and Ianto watched as he stirred what looked like a Tikka Masala one more time before serving it on the plates.

"You going to stand there gawking all night, or are you going to sit down and eat?"

Owen plonked down in his chair, raising an eyebrow at Ianto. "Well?"

Ianto nodded and sat across from Owen and tentatively began eating.

The strangeness of the situation was nearly too much for Ianto, and he considered turning and bolting for the door, but he didn't. It almost felt good to be around someone else again.

"Thank you, it's good."

Owen grunted in response as he stuffed another forkful of food into his mouth. As Ianto watched him, he realized that Owen had more in common with the weevils than just growling. His table etiquette was on par with Janet's.

They ate in silence, and Ianto couldn't help but wonder when the lecture would begin. Ianto watched as Owen scraped the last of his curry off the dish before shoving his plate away and leaning back in the chair, rubbing his stomach in satisfaction.

There was still over half of what Owen had served him left, but Ianto couldn't force anymore down. It had been a while since he had eaten that much. Even before joining Torchwood, he was never one to eat large meals.

Noting Owen's gaze, and trying his best to ignore it, he stood and cleared the table, placing the dishes in the sink. Glancing around the kitchen, he located the dishwasher and began taking care of the aftermath of Owen's culinary adventure. He figured it was the least he could do, as Owen had prepared something that was more than edible.

Unfortunately, Ianto's lower back was not as agreeable to the idea. But using his years of practice at concealing his emotions, Ianto bit back the discomfort and continued. He had already shown enough weakness for a lifetime today and didn't need to be caught whimpering while straightening the kitchen.

Swallowing hard, Ianto placed the washcloth he had been using on the counter and turned back to the room. Owen was still at the table, but now was turned in his chair, watching Ianto.

"You're in pain, aren't you?"

"It's just a twinge."

"The hell it is," Owen said as he slid his chair back and moved towards Ianto.

Ianto's brow furrowed and he stepped back, bumping his back painfully into the counter behind him. A pained groan slipped from his throat.

"Whoa, easy, okay? I'm not going to hurt you. Give me some credit, would ya?" Owen was standing in front of Ianto. "I just want to help. Remember what I said in the car?"

Ianto nodded and watched Owen cautiously.

"Turn around." Owen's hand motioned in a circle.

"What? No."

"Jesus, Ianto. I'm not going to molest you." Owen hand firmly gripped Ianto's shoulder, twisting him around to face the cabinets.

"Ow."

Owen only chuckled in response, and before Ianto could protest, Owen was pulling Ianto's shirt up. He flinched in surprise as warm, calloused fingers began prodding the muscles, probably feeling the knots that he knew riddled his back.

Owen made a few noncommittal noises before letting Ianto's shirt fall back into place.

"As I doctor, I can say with authority, it's a fucking miracle you're even standing."

"Why thank you, Doctor Harper, for that brilliant piece of insight." Ianto tugged his shirt back down fully, smoothing the hem of the cotton tee.

Owen's hand shot out and grabbed one of Ianto's, pulling it into the light for inspection. Ianto knew what had caught his eye and shame enveloped Ianto. Owen's touch was gentle as he examined the faint scars on Ianto's arm, carefully feeling over the marks with his fingertips.

"They aren't … I wasn't trying to kill myself if that's what you're thinking."

Owen released his hold and stepped back, leaning against the center island. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded for Ianto to continue.

"It was a week after Jack left. The night we went after the two weevils in Splott -when we found that girl."

Ianto felt the darkness creeping in on him again as he thought of the images from that night, the small body, hardly recognizable, torn apart in a back alley, the way her blond hair was streaked with blood. He shuddered at the memory.

"When I got home that night, I couldn't sleep. I don't even remember deciding to do it. It just happened. The last time before that was years ago." He stopped, looking up to meet Owen's eyes. He didn't look disgusted or judgmental like Ianto had thought he would. He looked understanding.

"Have you done it since?"

He shook his head. "No."

Owen nodded, contemplating what Ianto had said. "And you starving yourself, that's for the same reason as the cutting?"

Ianto shrugged. "I never really thought about it. It's just happens."

Owen scrubbed a hand over his face, moving it up to ruffle his hair. He sighed and studied Ianto carefully. "Well, I won't lie, psychiatry was never my strong suit, but I'll do everything I can to help you out. Tomorrow, I'm going to make some calls and get you on some meds. At minimum, you need something for that ulcer you're developing and some vitamin supplements for the malnutrition."

Owen reached out, squeezing him on the shoulder. "Hey, it's not that bad, could be worse."

Ianto gave him a skeptical look.

"Well, I can't fix everything wrong in your head tonight, but I can help with your back if you let me."

Ianto scoffed. "And how would you do that?"

Owen held up his hands, waving them in the air.

"You want to give me a massage?" Ianto asked, bemused.

"Yeah, but don't expect a happy ending. You're not my type."

"You're such a prat."

"You wouldn't want me any other way, now go lay on the bed. I'll be right there." Owen waved in the direction of his bedroom.

"I didn't realize I had agreed yet."

"Just shut up and do it. I am a doctor, you know. It's not like you have anything to hide." A mischievous grin spread across Owen's face. "Unless you fancy me and-"

Ianto shoved a hand hard into Owen's chest. "Don't," Ianto warned.

Owen put his hands up in a placating gesture. "Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood. Seriously, Ianto, go lay down, and I'll see if I can do something for your back."

Ianto really wasn't sure if it was possible for the universe to be turned inside out, but he was pretty sure it had at some point in the last thirty minutes.

Hearing Owen enter the bathroom, Ianto hesitantly made his way toward the open expanse of space Owen referred to as his room. He looked down at the bed with apprehension, but the idea of being horizontal on a soft surface was too enticing to deny, and he gave in to his body's needs and climbed onto the bed.

As he settled down on his stomach, Owen's voice called from the other room. "Make sure you keep your pants on. I'm not Harkness."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Walking toward the bedroom with a bottle of lotion in hand, Owen found Ianto stretched out facedown on the bed, his feet hanging off the end.

Unable to deny himself the chance to annoy the Welshman, Owen slapped the bottom of Ianto's foot, causing the man to jump. "Hey, I said keep your pants on, but the shirt needs to go."

The young man stirred and drew himself up on his elbows, turning to scowl at Owen over his shoulder. The skill in which Ianto could toss someone a dirty look from any position really was impressive, and it made Owen chuckle.

Shuffling around, Ianto reached back and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it off to the side. "I am starting to think this is some ploy to get me naked in your bed." He slumped back down and rested his head on his forearms. "There, better?"

"Better would be out pulling at the bar."

"Need I remind you this was your idea?" Ianto grumbled into the pillow.

Owen looked over Ianto for a moment, noting his pale skin and thin frame. He really did need to improve his diet.

Ianto flexed his back and rolled his shoulders. "You going to do this or can I go lay on the couch?"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch."

He climbed up on the bed and threw a leg over Ianto's back, plonking hard down on Ianto's arse.

"Fuck, you're heavy," Ianto groaned.

The lotion felt cold in Owen's hand, and he considered being a real ass and just dumping it on Ianto's back. But some part of him, maybe it was his conscience, reminded him that he was trying to show Ianto that he cared. Sighing, he squirted a dollop of lotion into his hand and proceeded to warm it.

At first contact with his skin, Ianto twitched and shrank back into the mattress. Undeterred, Owen spread his fingers out and began mapping the muscles of his back. He carefully traced them down along their paths, feeling for any signs of inflammation or thickening. As he had seen prior on the scanner, most of the issue was with his lower back, but really he was tense everywhere.

"You're going to need to try and relax for this to work."

"This is relaxed."

"Try harder then, think of something soothing, imagine you're organizing something."

"You really think I live for the purpose of filing, don't you?"

"No, I think you like order and control."

He slid his thumbs up on either side of Ianto's spine and then worked his way back down.

"I like knowing … I like certainty."

Owen mulled over Ianto's explanation for a minute. "Nothing's really certain though, is it?"

"Death is." Ianto's voice was even and cold.

"You're a morbid fucker."

Ianto shrugged. "You asked."

Owen slid his hands up his back again, feeling the tension.

"Ow." Ianto's backed arched, and he looked over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to help, hold still." He had found a particularly bad knot and was trying to work it out, slowly working his thumbs into the tense muscle with increasing pressure.

Ianto cried out again and tried shaking Owen from his perch on his arse. Trying to hang on, the doctor squeezed his thighs together, gripping Ianto's hips and keeping himself righted as Ianto writhed beneath him.

Owen was beginning to break a sweat, and his hands were starting to cramp. Just when he was beginning to consider running to the hub for some muscle relaxers, the knot beneath his touch began to soften, and Ianto's body relaxed beneath him. "Feel better?"

Ianto groaned something that Owen took as a yes, and he started rubbing in more broad strokes, trying to soothe the reddened flesh.

He worked in silence after that, but it was clear something was on the Welshman's mind. His head would lift just slightly before he let it drop again. Owen could picture the look that probably went along with the fidgeting; his brow kind of scrunched and eyes squinted in thought. Owen called it his constipation face, as he was sure it was a dual purpose face, serving both impacted bowels and deep thought.

Ianto's head hit the pillow _again,_ and curiosity and irritation finally got the better of him. He halted his movements and straightened up, putting his hands on his hip in a very diva like fashion. "Fucking Christ, Ianto, _what_?" He realized after the words left his mouth that his tone was a bit harsher than he had intended.

"It's nothing. It's not like you really give a fuck, anyway."

"Actually I do, you arrogant twat."

"Yeah, I can tell. Just get off me." Ianto pushed himself up on his elbows again, this time shifting so Owen was lifted into the air.

"No! I am trying to be your friend and help you. Why can't you stop being so fucking moody for a change and let me?"

Owen jabbed his thumb into a pressure point on Ianto's shoulder, causing him to howl in pain. He waited, bracing himself for a physical fight, but it didn't come. Ianto slumped back onto the bed with thud.

"Helping by hurting me?"

"No, by being your friend and talking to you. Something is clearly on your mind. What is it?"

"I don't know why I should talk to you; you'll just rip the piss out of me later."

"I promise I won't." He hoped he sounded sincere, because he really was trying to be.

Ianto turned his head to the side and rested it on his forearms. His eyes were closed, but he looked anything but relaxed. He sighed heavily and glanced back at Owen.

"I was thinking about Jack … if he was coming back."

Owen took a minute to try and put a response together. Relationships really weren't his thing, and he was shit at giving advice on love, especially when he wanted to personally string Jack up by the balls for putting Ianto through the wringer like this.

There was no excuse for kissing and running like he did. One would think that after living for god knows how long, he would have had courtesy to leave a note, or at least shouted he was leaving so the CCTV could have taken the message. But apparently, he had felt it wasn't necessary, and that shitty choice had hurt Ianto. And even though he never really admitted it, he thought of Ianto like a brother, a stubborn Welsh, OCD-ridden brother with severe emotional issues and a strange attraction to coffee makers, but a brother nonetheless.

Even though his social skills sucked, he knew that Ianto didn't need him ranting about what a tosser he thought Jack really was, do he decided to lie, for Ianto's sake.

"He'll be back. It all means too much to him to stay away forever."

He was sure there was a semblance of truth there, albeit stretched. He didn't really believe Jack was coming back, but Jack was narcissistic enough that he may surprise them and come back just for the ego petting he got prancing around in that coat.

Owen squeezed Ianto's shoulders reassuringly.

"I miss him." Ianto whispered so low, he wasn't sure he was meant to hear.

"I know."

Owen ran his hands lightly over Ianto's back and shoulders, hoping he was offering some comfort to the man. After a few minutes, he heard a quiet snuffling sound. He bent to look at Ianto's face. The tense lines of stress were gone from his face; his eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly agape. He was asleep. _Fucking Hell._

Owen sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Don't think you're sleeping there every night."

He carefully slid off him, and he walked out to the closet. He grabbed an extra blanket, tossing it over Ianto before yanking his pillow out from beneath his head. He smiled as walked to the couch, hearing a muffled curse behind him.

xXx

Owen was less than pleased when he was awoken by Ianto banging away. It was so early the sun had yet to rise and the only light was the glow coming from the kitchen.

He was stiff and sore –and not in the fun way. He dealt with too much shit in life to be sleeping on the couch in his own flat. Ianto better have enjoyed last nights rest on his bed 'cause it wasn't happening again anytime soon.

He idly wondered whether he could still lock Ianto in a cell or if that would just be bad manners now.

With minimal conversation and excessive cursing, they made it to the hub. Ianto skirted off to whatever it was he did that early, and Owen trudged up the stairs to Jack's office. His tired brain found that thought funny. _Jack's Office._ Would it ever stop being his office? Did Harkness have such staying power that 100 years from now this would still be his office even if he never came back? Owen thanked fuck he wasn't going to live long enough to find out.

Fuck. He needed more sleep. He dropped his head on to the desk and groaned when he knocked a stack of papers over. The paperwork never seemed to end, and he wanted more than anything to just set fire to it all.

The sound of even, precise steps moved up the stairs. Only one person walked that carefully, and he prayed to whatever God that hated him so much to just once give him a break and let Ianto be carrying coffee.

He didn't dare look up for fear of disappointment, but he could see Ianto's black shoes from under his arm. The smell of coffee caught his attention, and he lifted his head. Ianto was staring at him with the constipation face. Great.

"Coffee?" Ianto said, holding out the cup.

"Please." He snatched the cup and leaned back in the chair, letting the aroma wash over him before taking the first, blissful sip.

He was broken from his near orgasmic coffee experience by Ianto clearing his throat.

"Yes?" Owen said tiredly, annoyed his first sip of coffee was being interrupted.

Ianto gestured to the scattered files, the constipation face still in effect.

"Oh, yeah, bit of a mishap, filing gone wrong. Don't worry. I'll get them all back in order later," he said, waving at the chaos.

Ianto raised a brow and nodded. Stepping over the papers, he disappeared from the room.

Downing the last dregs of coffee, he checked his watch. It was only seven. There was still way to many hours left in the day. He knew at any time now the alarm would sound and Tosh and Gwen would be strolling in. He wondered what, if anything, Ianto would tell them. Confidentiality would normally bar Owen from disclosing anything. But he supposed that this was Torchwood, and the rules here were more suggestions than actual guidelines, so he could if he wanted to.

But he didn't want to. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he couldn't. Ianto deserved more than betrayal. He _had _been trying to make up for his misstep of nearly letting a cyberman loose on the world, and truth be told, if it had been Katie, he would have done the same thing.

xXz

The day had been uneventful. It was just how he liked it. He had checked up on Ianto a few times and saw he was behaving. When lunch finally rolled around, Ianto ordered everyone's food, including something for himself per Owen's orders.

"Ianto, did you leave your car here last night?" Tosh asked, taking a bite of rice.

"Uh, yeah, I rode with Owen, why?" Ianto kept his features schooled in a calm mask.

"Oh, nothing just checking, I didn't see your car leave the garage."

Gwen's face scrunched up in an adorably cute way. "Why were you checking footage of the garage?"

"One of the cameras has been picking up interference. I changed its frequency yesterday, and I was checking if it was any better."

"And was it?" Owen asked, not bothering to stop shoveling food into his mouth.

"Yeah, it's much clearer. And the relay time is far superior—"

"Uh huh, good job, Tosh," Owen said dismissively. Tosh looked hurt, but Owen wasn't paying enough attention to notice.

Gwen looked to Ianto, puzzled. "Why did you ride home with Owen, is your car broke down?"

Ianto blinked and looked to Owen, who only shrugged.

"No, umm … I was too tired to drive."

Gwen smacked Owen on the back of the head. "Jesus, Gwen. What the fuck was that for?"

"That was for Ianto. You shouldn't push him so hard." Gwen snapped.

"Me? You're blaming me for him acting like a bloody idiot and working himself to death?"

Ianto cleared his throat. "The Bloody idiot is right here, thank you. I assure you, Gwen, my being overtired was no one's fault but my own. He was only trying to help."

"See?" Owen said, knowing he sounded like a child and not caring one bit.

"Fine, sorry," Gwen huffed then turned to Ianto."If you need a ride home again, you can always ask me, alright? I don't mind."

"Same here," Tosh added. "Whatever you need, we're a family. We need to watch out for each other, now more than ever with Jack gone."

Owen gaze snapped to Ianto, watching him for any sign of breakdown. His expression was blank, but Owen knew Ianto was better than most at hiding his emotions.

"Thank you, both. I appreciate it."

Owen watched closely as Ianto went back to nibbling his food. It seemed like any awkward Jack related topics had been successfully avoided. Or so he thought.

"Ianto." Gwen's voice broke the silence. "Do you think Jack is coming back?"

_Fuck_.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Dedicated to SiwgrGalon for leaving such a sweet review.

**Chapter 4**

"Fuck," Owen said, watching Ianto slip down towards the archives. He stepped back into the boardroom and flopped down in a chair. "You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?"

"What did I do?" Gwen said, looking insulted.

"Use your brain, Gwen. Ianto has been moping around since Jack left, and then you go pour salt in the wound."

"How was …." She stopped, a look of horror coming over her. "Oh god, poor, Ianto. I didn't even think."

"You never do."

"Owen!" Tosh exclaimed. "Apologize, now."

He rolled his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Again, with feeling this time," Tosh commanded.

He glanced at Gwen, who was looking rather smug. "I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault."

Gwen smirked. "Thank you, Owen. Apology accepted."

"Now, Owen, would you mind filling us in on whatever _that_ was?" Tosh asked.

He knew just what 'that' she was referring to. She meant Ianto's little meltdown.

When Gwen had asked him about Jack, and the proceeded to rattle off all the terrible fates that may have befallen him, Ianto began to break apart. Even to less schooled Ianto observers, it was clear that he wasn't doing well. His breathing increased, and his hands shook. When he'd tried to respond to Gwen, it came out as a broken, choked sob. He quickly excused himself and ducked out of the room, leaving everyone but Owen wondering just what had happened.

"_That,_" he emphasized the word as she had, "was the crack in Ianto's veneer ripping apart."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked.

"Fuck," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Owen really didn't want to involve anyone else; it felt like he was betraying Ianto. But truth be told, he couldn't handle it on his own, not if Ianto was still on a downward spiral he suspected he was. "If I tell you, nothing leaves this room. Do you both understand me, not even Ianto is to know about this talk. Understood?"

They both nodded

"He hasn't been handling the stress well with Jack gone. He's been hurting himself … purposely and on top of that, he's also been practically starving himself."

There was silence in the room. Gwen looked near tears and Tosh's expression was blank; she looked like she was sorting which question to ask first.

"When you say hurting, do you mean like cutting, that kind of thing?" Tosh asked.

He nodded. "He says he hasn't done it in a while, not since that fucked up night in Splott. As for the eating, I think he was doing that before Jack left. It's just now worse without Jack here to help him."

Gwen expression turned panicked. "Is he okay down there alone? Shouldn't someone be watching him then?" She stood and began pacing the length of the room. She looked like she was ready to charge down there and wrap the poor kid in cotton wool.

Tosh bent down and pulled her laptop bag from below the table. "It's alright, Gwen. I can pull up the cameras in the sublevels right now."

"I really think he'll be alright; he just needed a minute to cool off."

"You can't be sure, Owen," Gwen said.

"Well, I may have mentioned something about cells and observation if I didn't think he was behaving."

"You threatened him?" Tosh said, shocked.

"What did you want me to do? Just let him do it?"

"No, but threatening him with a cell isn't the solution either."

"You are such a knob, Owen," Gwen said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Look, I gave him two options, go in a cell or go home with me where I could watch him. He chose going home with me. See? So I'm not that cold-hearted."

Gwen's eyes went wide as did Tosh's.

"What? Is me being nice so shocking?"

"Yeah, actually it is," Gwen said, and Tosh nodded in agreement.

Tosh glanced up from her screen. "It looks like he is down in his office, filing."

"See? Told you he just needed space," Owen said smugly.

Gwen sat down with a huff. "What are we going to do? We can't just let him deal with this alone?"

"No we can't," Owen agreed. "But you can't go smothering him either. If you push too hard, it may only drive him further away."

Gwen cocked her head to the side, looking annoyed. "You can stop glaring at me, Owen. I get it. I promise I won't coddle him to death."

Owen smirked. "Seriously though, we need to keep our eyes peeled for signs of him hurting himself. Cutting is an addiction, something he's not likely to just stop, especially where he seems to be struggling so much right now."

"I can setup a program to monitor him in the hub," Tosh offered as she clicked away at the keys of her laptop.

"Good, that'll help," Owen said. "I've also talked to a friend of mine from the NHS. I'm starting Ianto on some meds that will hopefully help."

Gwen sighed heavily. "I just can't believe I didn't put it together earlier, seen how much he was hurting. God, what kind of friends are we?"

"We all dropped the ball, Gwen. It wasn't just you," Owen said quietly.

"I'm going to go start on that program," Tosh said. "Gwen, you want to come with me? I could use the company."

Gwen nodded. "Sure, of course."

"Well, while you girls chat, I'm going to go see what our resident pain in the ass is up to."

xXx

Owen tried to keep his steps silent as he approached the nook that Ianto called his 'office', though it was more of a desk that had been cornered off by shelving.

He jumped when a loud crash echoed through the hall. He instinctively reached for his sidearm, resting his hand on the holster.

"Ianto?"

There was another loud bang, and Owen began hurrying in its direction.

"Shit," he said, rushing forward to where he saw Ianto. He was hunched over, leaning his head against a filing cabinet.

He placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him around. Ianto was cradling his hand, and streaks of blood decorated the metal face of the drawer. It was obvious what Ianto had done.

"Let me see," he commanded.

Ianto pulled back, trying to twist out of Owen's view. "I'm fine."

"Fine is the one thing you're not," Owen snapped. "Now let me see." Owen held his hand out expectantly.

Sighing, Ianto turned to Owen, his gaze flicking between the doctors face and his proffered hand before slowly moving his injured limb out for Owen's inspection.

Reaching out, he took hold of his wrist, careful to avoid the reddened skin. Gently turning it over in his hands, he examined the swelling knuckles and bleeding gash.

"Can you move your fingers?" He looked up to meet Ianto's gaze, letting his genuine concern show.

Slowly, Ianto flexed his hand. "See? Nothing broke," he murmured, but Owen didn't miss the wince that had accompanied the action.

"Doesn't mean there's not any damage." He pressed on the outer edges of the cut. "This needs cleaning and a proper dressing. I also want to run the scanner over your hand, make sure you haven't fractured something."

Ianto simply nodded, looking like a kicked puppy.

"So, you want to tell me what the poor cabinet did to deserve that?" Owen said, a smirked playing on his lips.

"Wouldn't open," Ianto said flatly.

"So you punched it?"

"Twice."

Owen chuckled. "I can't really say much after kicking the copier last week."

"We make a great pair."

"That's Torchwood; you got to be at least a little unbalanced to work here. You just happen to be a bit more unbalanced than most. That's probably why you're so damned good at this job."

Ianto raised a brow, trying to look serious, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Owen put his arm around the stubborn Welshman. "Come on, let's go take care of that hand."

As they emerged into the open hub, Owen caught the girls' concerned stares. He shook his head and tried to get them to redirect their attention elsewhere. But the effort was in vain, as Ianto easily caught them looking, and straightened his posture, trying to appear better off than he actually was.

He sat Ianto down at his desk; there was no need to put him on the autopsy table for this. He figured it would help Ianto to feel a bit more comfortable and less on display.

He scanned his limb and found no fractures, but there was significant soft tissue damage. He searched through his med cart and found an anti-inflammatory that would help with the swelling. While he was there, he also gathered the antidepressants he had gotten for him.

He put the pills into a small paper cup and set them down in front of Ianto.

"Hang on, let me get you some water." Owen bent down and rummaged through the small fridge beside his desk, producing a bottle of water a moment later. "Here," he said, setting it down beside the pills.

Ianto picked up the small cup of pills. "What are they?"

"Anti-inflammatory, antidepressant, and a multivitamin."

"Oh," Ianto said, still staring at the pills.

"You need to swallow them for them to have any effect."

Ianto tipped the cup back and took the medication with a sip of water.

"Drink the whole thing. You haven't had enough fluids today."

"I've had plenty—"

"Coffee doesn't count. It's a diuretic," Owen interrupted him. "I have also prescribed you a sleep aid, which I will be seeing you take every night. As for the others, I will give them to you every morning when we come in."

"I think I can handle taking them without your help."

"I'm sure you can, but I can't trust you not to take a whole bottle of sleeping pills, so I'm hanging on to them. Got it?"

Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me for wanting to keep you alive."

"No one said you had to."

"Well, that may be so, but I want to keep you alive, so suck it up. Besides, Jack would skin me alive if I let anything happen to you."

"You just want me here so you have someone to badger," Ianto said, watching Owen as he bandaged his hand.

"Well, that, and I like having you around. You've kind grown on me, like that weird, green mold that's growing in the mayo jar in the fridge. The one that I named Bob."

"You're comparing me to your pet mold named Bob? The one I tossed out last week because it smelt atrocious?"

"You threw Bob out?"

"Yes, I was afraid it would reach sentience and attempt to take over the staff fridge."

Owen shook his head. "You're a cold man, Jones."

He secured the bandage in place, checking Ianto's fingers for circulation.

"There, I want you to keep this elevated with ice for at least the next hour. That means no working. I want you sitting on your ass upstairs, not down in the dungeon you call an office."

"This is completely unnecessary. I am capable of working with one hand."

"Well, tough shit, mate. I'm the boss, so what I say goes. Now get your scrawny ass up there before I sedate you."

Ianto glared at Owen, narrowing his eyes as if preparing to argue, but Owen held his gaze, unblinking.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me," Ianto said flatly before turning and heading up the stairs.

xXx

"How's the hand?" Owen asked, plonking down on the couch beside Ianto.

"Delightful."

"Don't take that tone with me; you're the dumbass who went and punched a cabinet. Have you spoken with the girls?"

"Yeah, it was unavoidable given I am currently restricted to the couch. Thankfully, they've gone off to rewire a camera, apparently the current setup is inadequate."

"And did they smother you with love and attention before the left?"

Ianto scoffed. "I don't believe _smother_ is the correct word. It took all I had to reason with Gwen and get her to believe that it wasn't her fault."

"It was," Owen argued.

"No, it wasn't." Ianto snapped, giving Owen a curious look. "You didn't tell her it was her fault, did you? Because I still have one good hand, and I don't mind breaking it on your face." He began leaning forward to stand.

"Oi! Just sit back down." Owen pushed a hand against Ianto chest. "I already apologized to her. Jesus, you're high strung today."

Ianto stared unwavering at him for a moment before deciding it wasn't worth the effort to argue. He tossed his head back and closed his eyes, ignoring Owen's presence completely.

A few minutes passed where the doctor just sat beside Ianto, watching him simply for the sake of annoying him.

"Don't you have something you need to be doing?" Ianto finally spoke.

"Yep."

"Other than annoying me."

"Why, am I bothering you?" Owen asked, pleased to be succeeding in his goal.

"You need a hobby."

"I have one, it's called Ianto watching."

"Get a new one," Ianto said dryly, "try knitting,"

"Only if I can knit you a sweater with a cock and balls on the front," he said, moving to remove the icepack from Ianto's hand.

He lifted his head, one eye opening to peer at Owen suspiciously.

The doctor handled the injured hand gingerly. "The swelling's coming down," he announced, seeming pleased. "But the bruising will be pretty spectacular tomorrow."

Ianto groaned, apparently displeased with that tidbit of knowledge.

"Stop your whining. It could be worse." Owen placed the cold pack back on his hand.

"You keep saying that, yet my luck continues to prove you wrong." Ianto didn't bother opening his eyes or lifting his head.

"Luck had nothing to do with your hand, mate," Owen said, leaning back on the couch. "That was all you. So, you ready to talk about what happened yet?"

"Not really, but I suppose you're just going to continue pestering me until I tell you."

Owen chuckled. "Likely, so spit it out, what happened? What was going through that thick, Welsh head of yours?"

Ianto sighed. "I … It was … Fuck, Owen, is this really necessary?" He rolled his head to the side, giving the doctor a pathetic 'take pity on me' look.

Owen was unaffected by the pleading expression, though. He had dated too many women who had used that look on him in the past. "Yes, now try again. Stop worrying about being perfect for a change and just talk."

Ianto brought his good arm up behind his head, settling his gaze on the ceiling.

"Since Lisa, I've had this gnawing pain inside me, eating at me. Jack made it better. I could talk to him. Despite what you believe, it wasn't all about sex. He was there for me. He could make the pain go away."

"And now that he's gone," Owen said, nudging him to continue.

"Now that's he's gone, the pain doesn't stop. Everything just seems to build on it, making it bigger, heavier. It won't stop. It just overwhelms me sometimes, and then I do something stupid."

"Like punching inanimate objects?"

He nodded. "When Gwen asked about Jack, it was like all the air was being sucked from my lungs. I panicked. I lost control "—Ianto's free hand clenched in a fist—"and I can't lose control."

"Hate to burst your bubble, but you're not that special. We all lose control at one time or another," Owen said nonchalantly. "Just some of us do it more with a bit more flair than others."

Ianto made an indecipherable noise before finally sitting up. His calm mask of indifference back in place.

"It's been an hour, Owen. May I go back to work?"

"I suppose, but don't go acting out anymore inner demons on helpless furniture. We can't afford to have you walking around with both hands in bandages. God, can you imagine this place without our daily infusion of caffeine?"

Ianto stood, tossing the icepack in the bin. "Because the universe would implode if you had to actually walk to corner shop."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** This chapter contains suicidal themes. Please stop here if that subject matter offends you.

Also, feedback and comments are appreciated. They do inspire my muse.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

A few weeks went by and things settled into a new normal. His hand had healed, and he was able to return to his normal duties.

Ianto begrudgingly got used to Owen's constant observation and hovering. He was also fairly certain he was now being monitored by the girls as well. He felt like he was living in a fishbowl. His suspicions of being watched were soon confirmed when he stumbled upon something completely by accident.

It happened when he was trying to access some files, he'd found a log from a program he had never see before. The name was about as nearly inconspicuous as the giant _Torchwood_ plastered on the side of the SUV. The name of the program was _Operation Observe Ianto_ or O.O.I. for short.

The sole purpose of it seemed to be to track his every movement, using both the hub cameras and those in the majority of Cardiff to do it. The discovery was an unnerving one. He searched through the logs and found a record of his every step for the last two weeks.

The more he searched, the more intruded upon he felt. He knew that they had done it out of concern, but it made him want to just pack up and leave. Maybe even down a bottle of Retcon, so he could spend the rest of his life drooling in a corner of an institution. As tempting as it was, he couldn't burden others. If he was going to check out, he would do it so no one would need to clean up his mess.

Using his extensive computer knowledge, he altered the program. He turned off the tracking and went back to work. But the discovery haunted him for the rest of the day.

As he went about his work with robotic precision, his mind began sorting through the pros and cons of living. He wasn't specifically a morbid person, just logical. He knew that his time was short as it was, working at Torchwood insured that, though the method of death would probably be painful, slow, and most definitely messy, because deaths by Torchwood always were.

He felt empty as he thought about death and loss. It seemed like it surrounded him.

All his friends and coworkers from the past were dead. The one woman he loved was dead. The one man he had ever shared himself with had left him. And the only people he had left didn't trust him.

To him, the picture that story painted was pretty bleak, and he couldn't really see a reason to continue on with it. He didn't want to see how much worse it could get.

Even with Owen's magic pills and horrible attempts at counseling, the darkness still taunted him and the pain still gnawed in his gut. Nothing Owen could do would fix him. There were only two people who could ever ease his pain and neither was here for him now.

He missed Jack. He missed the comfort his arms could bring. He missed the way he could take the pain away. He knew it wasn't healthy to be so dependant on one person. Owen would probably have some term for it. But it didn't matter as Jack was gone and not coming back.

He chalked that depressing fact up to the cons in his growing list of reason why his life sucked.

Trying not to come across completely pessimistic and needing to be fair to himself, he should try to find something to add to the pro list. He paused with a file in his hand, trying to rack his brain for something to make suffering through more of life's shit worth it.

Seconds passed, and he his brow knitted in concentration.

He considered his family as a reason to live … but how could people he no longer spoke to count?

He considered the team needing him … but his presence only served to distract them, something that in their line of work wasn't an option.

Jack may come back … but even if he did, who's to say he would still want him now that he was even more broken than before.

He stuffed the file into the drawer. His decision was made, mostly. Planning one's death wasn't an easy venture and not one that should be done lightly. He would need to ensure he tied up as many loose ends as he could. He supposed a note would be needed as well. He couldn't allow the team to blame themselves for something that was all his decision.

He planned his escape from the others for the rest of the day. They were all predicable and fairly easy for Ianto to evade. Being an archivist for Torchwood had its perks, one of which was knowing just what was filed away within it.

There was a small shard of metal from that was found in the 1960s that was recorded to be stored in a box in the far reaches of the archives. It had the same properties as the lift. It could make whatever was in direct contact nearly imperceptible.

Finding the box took a lot of effort and nearly drove him mad as it concealed itself through design. But eventually, using a systematic search method, he found it and slipped it into his pocket. The little triumph put a grin on his face. It always was nice when a plan came together.

When he stepped out of the archives, he felt a stab of guilt. He was leaving his team with a lot of extra work. He reasoned that he should try and make his passing as easy as possible for them.

An idea struck him, he knew how to ease the burden. He quickly slipped into Jack's office and retrieved the proper paperwork needed for when an employee of Torchwood had died. He gathered the forms and stuck them under his arm. He would fill them out later, so all Owen would need to do was sign them.

He made his way back down the stairs and paused, silently watching Tosh and Gwen for a moment. They were talking quietly.

He walked over to them, not daring to get too close. They looked sad. Not that anyone here really looked very happy these days, but the past few months since Jack left had worn them down. They hardly smiled anymore.

He hoped though that his death would give them some relief. The constant stress of worrying over him wasn't healthy. It would hurt them more at first, but be better for them in the long run. Like pulling off a plaster, getting it over with fast was far better than feeling every millimeter of it pulling at your skin.

He whispered his goodbyes as loud as he dared. He froze and held his breath when Gwen turned. Her big doe eyes looked right through him before turning back to her work. He wondered if she sensed he was there. He was truly sorry for doing this to them, but it was the only way.

He had to swallow back a lump that had formed in his throat and brush away a tear that had managed to escape his firm control. He wouldn't let himself cry over this. He was doing what had to be done. He was support, and sometimes, he had to do the dirty work that no one else had the stomach to do. It was his job.

He walked over to the railing that circled the autopsy bay. Peering down, he saw Owen. He was grumbling and tossing his medical tools about a tray. He looked annoyed, but when wasn't he?

A smile tugged at the corners of Ianto's mouth. He had really come to love the crass Londoner. But that was more of a reason he had to do this, to keep him and the others safe.

This ragtag group of people loved him so much they were getting distracted. It would only be a matter of time before a fatal mistake was made. Maybe one of them would be too worried about where Ianto was and not see a weevil approaching. There were so many scenarios that Ianto could see ending badly. He shuddered at the images his imagination supplied.

He tried to think of something he should say to Owen, should he thank him? Say goodbye? So long and thanks for all the fish? Final words were very hard to find when you had to come up with on the spot, even if the receiver of the final words wasn't going to actually hear them.

He decided that maybe he didn't need words. It seemed almost like a symbolic gesture to just tip his head and walk away. This way he wasn't breaking the trust they had built. If he had said goodbye, knowing Owen couldn't hear him, it would have felt like it was cheating him out of the chance to respond.

With one final glance at the flustered doctor, he smiled and nodded to his friend. He then straightened his shoulders and walked to the lift.

He reached over and pressed the button to call it down. If he was going to be caught, it would be now. He stood close to the wall as it descended. Tosh was the first to notice and spun in her chair.

"Owen, need you up here." She yelled over her shoulder. The scanner was already in her hand.

"Why's the lift coming down? No one's on it."

He chuckled at Gwen's observation. She always had a talent for stating the obvious.

Owen appeared at the top of the steps, his brow puckered in confusion. "Huh. That's weird." He scratched at his neck. "Getting any readings?"

Tosh shook her head.

The lift settled on the floor and Ianto pressed the button and stepped on. They all looked even more perplexed as it began rising again.

He could hear Owen demanding answers and Tosh explaining that she had no explanation for why it would happen. Gwen approached the spot he had just been in, looking up at where Ianto stood. Again, her haunting gaze bored through him. Had he not known he was unseen, he would have believed she was looking straight into his eyes, pleading with him stay.

After he was on the surface, he quickly made his toward home. He had thought over the possible methods he could use and tried to narrow down the options to something that was both efficient yet cleanly. He didn't want to burden anyone with a mess.

As he walked into his flat, he had it down to two options: overdose or hanging. Both options had merit.

He checked his watch. It was still early enough the team wouldn't have noticed him missing, but he was running out of time.

He shucked off his jacket and hung it neatly in the closet and opening the drawer in his bedside table, he took out a pad and scratched a note. It was simple and concise. He thanked them all for caring and wished them well and luck with their lives. He also noted that he would leave the proper forms for his death for filing, along with the drawer number he preferred to be stored in. It was the one beside Lisa.

He placed the note neatly on the table and pulled the forms out. He hadn't allotted much time to complete them, and as he worked his way through them, he couldn't help but regret not doing this before. Only Torchwood would have forms like this. There was a box to check if this was the employee's first death, and if wasn't, there was a request to please attach Form 2190 explaining the details. They really did seem to have a form for everything.

He finished the paperwork and placed the pile on the table beside the note. The death certificate was on top. On the line for cause of death was written two words, 'suicide, asphyxiation.'

He toed off his shoes and then took off his waistcoat and shirt, folding them, no reason to ruin a perfectly good suit.

He slid the belt from his trousers and stepped out of them, folding them and placing them on the bed. He set the belt aside for later use.

He slipped into the pajamas that Lisa had given him for there last Christmas together. He hadn't worn them since London. He'd forgotten how comfortable they were.

Knowing firsthand that deaths can be messy, even if well prepared. He decided to use the shower for his final moments, just in case.

He fastened the belt to the pipe where the showerhead attached and he tugged on it a few times to ensure it would hold. Satisfied, he slipped the loop around his neck. The hard leather dug unpleasantly at his neck. He wouldn't be around much longer though to notice, so he didn't care.

Very carefully, and very slowly, he let his knees bend. The belt tightened the more weight he shifted. He swallowed on last time and took his last breath. He sagged down and let the belt support him.

His head immediately felt heavy and he could feel the blood begging to be free; there was so much pressure. Darkness crept in around the edges of his vision and a loud static noise filled his ears.

"Ianto." He heard his name, and he felt disappointed.

It wasn't what had expected; he had hoped it would be Lisa's voice to welcome him home.

The darkness wrapped him in its heavy blanket, and he welcomed its comfort.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** So, I am thinking this will be the last chapter. If you guys want it continued further, review or PM me. Thanks and please let me know what you think.

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

"Ianto, answer me goddammit!"

Owen was getting annoyed. He had been calling Ianto on the comm for over five minutes now and had gotten no response. The Welshman was ignoring him and that wasn't improving Owen's day.

"Tosh, pull up the camera feeds. Find Yan so I can go slap him for being a prick."

"Would it kill you to be polite?" Gwen asked. She stood and crossed the room to stand by Tosh, her hands on her hips.

Owen scowled and moved to stand behind Tosh. He watched over her shoulder as she pulled up the images. Tosh leaned into the screen and hammered away faster at the keys.

"Something's not right. The program has been overridden." She looked up at Owen. "It was done with Ianto's ID."

A feeling of unease settled over Owen, something didn't seem right. He knew Ianto was smart, genius in fact. Owen's brain began connecting the dots, the program being shut down, the lift activating with no one on it, Ianto not answering the comm.

"Tosh, find him now. Do whatever you have to, just find him."

Owen watched impatiently as Tosh worked.

"Owen, where do—"

"Not now, Gwen."

Tosh straightened up in the chair. "Got him, he crossed the Plass about an hour ago."

Gwen leaned in. "Can you tell where he was going?"

Tosh's shoulder hunched as she typed a few more commands. "Yep, it looks like he went … home?" Tosh looked over her shoulder at them.

Gwen's brow furrowed, and she looked to Owen. "Why would he go home?"

That was a good question, and the possible answers that floated through his mind concerned him.

"I don't know, but we need to find out."

He didn't wait to see if they were following. He was too busy planning for all the possible scenarios that could be awaiting him.

xXx

"Owen! Slow down!" Gwen shouted, but he was too focused on his thoughts to respond.

The car shifted hard as he rounded the corner and the slammed to a stop. "We're here."

He didn't bother parking properly. He couldn't be arsed. The only thing on his mind was finding Ianto, and if he was alive, killing him, and if not …

He shuddered at the thought.

_Ianto wouldn't do that. He wouldn't just top himself. _He tried to reassure himself as he grabbed his kit and headed to the door.

"Open up, Yan." Owen pounded on the door.

"Tosh, key." He held out his hand expectantly.

He slipped the key into the lock and charged in. Tosh and Gwen were behind him.

"Ianto?" Tosh called.

It was dark and eerily quiet.

"Do you think he's here?" Gwen asked, peeking into the kitchen.

"I don't know. Spread out and check all the rooms. We need to find him," Owen shouted over his shoulder as he headed down the hall towards what he presumed to be a bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar and faint light shown through it.

"Ianto?" he called. He pushed the door open and looked around.

There were clothes neatly folded on the bed and some papers on the nightstand. He took the few steps to cross the distance. His heart slammed into his chest when he saw a nearly complete death certificate on the top of the stack.

Ianto Jones … Cause of Death: Suicide, asphyxiation …

His heart was working so fast he couldn't hear anything but his own pulse. He tried to scream out to his coworkers and tell them to hurry, but the words wouldn't form. Finally he gathered himself enough to think straight. He needed to find Ianto.

Shakily, he stepped forward toward the door to his right. He presumed it to be an en suite bathroom. He swallowed hard as he pushed the door open.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Ianto was hanging from his belt, dressed neatly in a pair of striped pajamas. His face was a dark red, nearly purple.

His medical brain kicked in. "Help, here now! Call 999!"

He ran to Ianto side. He grabbed him around the waist and began trying to unfasten the belt around his neck. "Help!"

"Oh my god, Ianto!" Gwen screamed.

Tosh moved beside Owen. She stepped into the shower and untied the belt.

Ianto's body fell with a thump against the tile.

"No pulse. Not breathing." Owen dragged his friend to the floor and began performing CPR.

Gwen was crying as she shut her phone. "Ambulance is coming."

Owen grunted as he performed chest compressions. "Come on, Yan. You can't go leaving us like this."

Tosh was shaking. She had slid down the wall and was crying, watching Owen work. Her arms were wrapped around her knees. She shook her head, repeating over and over. "He's gone."

Owen tilted Ianto's head back and aligned his airway, giving two breaths. "Shut up. I need help."

Gwen wiped the tears from her face with shaky hands and knelt down beside him. "What do you need?"

"Get the ambu bag from my kit."

Gwen fumbled around but eventually found it. She tore the plastic wrapping from it and placed it over Ianto's mouth and nose. "Like this?"

"Yeah, when I tell you, squeeze it."

Gwen nodded, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Now," Owen snapped, pausing in his compressions.

He checked for a pulse. Tears of relief clouded his vision when he felt a faint flutter under his touch. He took over for Gwen and told her to go wait for the ambulance.

"You stupid fucking sod," Owen choked, wiping the tears from his face. "When you get better, I'm gonna kill you for this."

He could hear the sirens of the ambulance. It was the most welcomed sound in the world.

"This way." He could hear Gwen direct them. He shifted to make room.

The paramedic immediately took over for Owen, and he allowed it. They loaded him onto a stretcher and carted him out of the room.

The full impact over what had happened hit him, and he lurched to the toilet, emptying his stomach. A small hand rested on his neck and another rubbed circles on his back. When the heaving stopped, he rocked back onto his heels, flushing the toilet as he did.

He saw now that it had been Tosh who had been comforting him.

"Gwen went with Ianto," she said.

He nodded and then stood. He went to the sink and turned on the faucet. He cupped the water in his hands and splashed it over his face. He grabbed the bottle of mouthwash from the counter and rinsed his mouth.

When he looked into the mirror, he could see Tosh in the reflection. Her eyes were red and puffy, and he could see the trails left by her tears.

He turned around and wrapped her in his arms. She tucked her head into his shoulder, and he leaned his head to the side, resting his cheek on her head. He rocked her gently as she shook with sobs.

And though he tried to fight it, he found himself crying as well, clutching on to her as much as she was him.

xXx

Ianto was stable. That's what the pimple-faced twat had told him when he'd arrived. He didn't seem old enough to be out of school, let alone be a doctor. When he tried to explain further, Owen flipped out his Torchwood credentials and snatched the file from his hand.

He wasn't going to trust the inept morons around here to look after his friend. As he read the chart, the full severity of his situation came to light. Ianto was stable, but on a ventilator. He showed signs of brain damage and wasn't responding to stimuli. He knew this was bad.

Gwen walked appeared down the hall. She had her arms wrapped around herself and was biting her lip. He assumed she had just come from Ianto's room.

When she reached him, she didn't speak. Instead, she threw herself at him, hugging him tightly much like Tosh had earlier.

"Oh god Owen, he looks so bad … his neck is all bruised … and the machines … what are we going to do?"

He really didn't know. "It'll be alright. We'll figure it out."

A hand on his back made him jump. He looked over and saw Tosh. She was holding a stack of papers.

"I found these when I went back to Ianto's place. It looks like he had everything in order." She handed them to Owen, who flipped through the forms. He had seen the death certificate before, but seeing it again made him nauseous. He swallowed hard and looked back at Tosh. She had another piece of paper.

"He left a note," she said.

He took it from her and read the short message. It probably the most concise suicide note ever. There was nothing poetic about it, just a simple a goodbye and apology for leaving them with a mess to clean up. The plainness of it was an echo of just how alone Ianto must have felt. He had to swallow back the lump in his throat when he read the request for the drawer number. It was beside Lisa. He felt chills run up his spine when he recalled the night he and Jack had prepared her body for storage; it had taken hours to pull the metal from her flesh.

His anger grew. It wasn't directed at any one thing or person, just life in general. It was directed at the world, at the cyberman who had killed Lisa, at the cannibals who had tortured Ianto, at Jack for leaving them all to figure this out alone.

Actually, the more he thought on it, the more he blamed Jack. If he had been here, Ianto would have been alright. Because no matter how much they all cared about the Welshman, he knew there was only one person that could really get behind his mask and that was Jack. He would have seen this coming. He would have known what to say. He would have stopped him in time. Him and that damned coat would have saved him sooner.

He roared in frustration and kicked a waiting room chair across the floor with a crash.

xXx

The rhythmic whooshing of air from the ventilator filled the room. Ianto lay still on the bed, his chest rising and falling with each artificial breath. His neck was bruised from the belt and his skin looked pale against the red and purple marks. He looked dead.

Owen had held vigil beside him for days, talking to him, threatening him, pleading with him. He held his hand and cried at night when the girls were gone. He felt like he had failed him as a doctor and a friend.

The girls had brought him coffee, but it sat untouched. It felt like he was cheating on him by drinking it. If Ianto didn't wake, he wasn't sure he would ever drink the stuff again.

He replayed every moment he could remember over and over in his head, trying to see what he had missed. He had missed something. He must have. But he never found anything to make him believe that he would have done this. But Ianto was just too controlled and too calculating to leave a clue of what he was planning.

After a week went by, the pimple-faced twat suggested organ donation. By the time security pulled Owen off him, the young doctor's nose was broken and his lip was split. It took Gwen hours to smooth it over with the police and the hospital administrators.

But in the end, Owen got to stay with Ianto and no one mentioned organ donation again.

And then another week later everything changed.

He was leaning his head against the plastic bedrail, holding Ianto's hand when he heard it. The sound of heavy determined steps echoed down the hall. It was a familiar sound that made Owen look to the door. He placed Ianto's hand back on the bed and stood.

"Where is he? Where's Ianto?" an all too familiar voice shouted in the hall.

His hands clenched into fists as he moved to the door.

Owen's feet moved him forward of their own volition. Jack suddenly appeared in the doorway. He looked the same as always, braces, stupid coat and all. His hair was sticking up in all directions like he had run here, maybe he had, and his eyes looked wild and frantic.

There was no happiness in his face, only pain, but not nearly enough for Owen's liking.

Owen drew back his fist and slammed it into Jack's face with a satisfying smack. Jack reeled back, and his hand went to his jaw. When Owen saw his lip bleeding, he smiled for the first time in a weeks.

"I know you're mad, Owen, but I need to see him. Where is he?"

Owen squared his shoulders and stepped into Jack's personal space, breathing on him as he spoke. "You have no right to come here. Fuck off, _Captain_."

Jack's eyes darkened, and had Owen had enough feeling left to care, he might have been frightened. But he wasn't. He shoved Jack hard in the chest, a growl building in his throat.

He had spent every night going over how things had come to this, and every night, it all came back to Jack. He wanted to make him pay for leaving them, for breaking Ianto.

"You don't deserve to see him," he snarled.

Jack charged him, grabbing his shirt and pushing him into the wall. "You have no idea where I've been or what has happened to me. I didn't have a choice. I had to go."

Owen slammed his head forward, head-butting Jack. He twisted out of Jack's hold while he was stunned and landed a blow to his gut. "You could have left a note, yelled out you were leaving." He went to bring a knee up into Jack's groin, but Jack grabbed his leg and flipped him onto his back.

His head smacked the ground with a crack. He saw spots.

When his vision returned fully, he saw Jack standing over him, looking apologetic. "You're right. I should have. I'm sorry. I only thought I would be gone for a day at most."

He sighed and pushed himself up, using the wall to steady himself. When he looked at Jack and saw the sadness there, his anger seemed to melt away. He wasn't ready to forgive him yet, but he just didn't have the energy to be angry.

"We fell apart without you. _He_ fell apart without you."

Owen tried to take a step, but the room spun and he wavered. A strong hand steadied him.

"Sorry about that." Jack motioned to Owen's head. "I didn't want to hurt you, and in my defense, you started it."

"You deserved it."

"I did." Jack kept a hand on Owen's shoulder. "How is he?"

Owen shook his head, which proved to be a bad idea as the room swayed again. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "Bad. He's in a coma. He's still not breathing on his own and there is diminished brain activity." He tried to stay clinical as he spoke but his voice broke under the weight of the words.

"I couldn't save him, Jack. I couldn't keep him safe. I tried so fucking hard—"

He choked back a sob. He really hated crying. But suddenly, he found himself sobbing and Jack was pulling him into his chest. He had wanted to kill the man only moments ago and now he was crying against him. It was all so fucked up.

"You did good, Owen," Jack soothed.

The awkwardness of the situation, crying on Jack's shoulder while nurses gaped, was enough to quell his tears. He pulled back and wiped his face on his sleeve. "If you mention this to anyone, I'll fucking kill you, understood?"

Jack put his hands up in surrender. "Mention what?"

"Good." Owen huffed. "So, are you sticking around this time?"

Jack nodded. "I came back for the team, for Ianto. I'm not leaving again, promise. You're stuck with me."

"Good, 'cause the paperwork sucks and UNIT are bitchy fuckers." Owen took a deep breath and nodded towards Ianto's room. "You ready to see him?"

"Yeah, after you." Jack gestured to the room.

xXx

Owen watched Jack and Ianto from the corner of the room. Even though Ianto lay still and unresponsive to Jack's touch, there was still an intimacy between them.

Jack gently stroked his fingertips over Ianto's jaw and down his neck, whispering words Owen couldn't quite define. He wasn't even sure they were English, but whatever they were, they sounded soothing.

It was the strangest thing to watch. Owen had been beside Ianto everyday, and nothing ever seemed to change, but somehow now it had. Maybe Owen was just imagining it, but with Jack beside him, Ianto looked peaceful again.

Owen felt like he was intruding on something private. The simple touches Jack made held so much more than Owen could have ever offered.

Jack's fingers lingered over the marks on Ianto's throat and Owen was sure he saw Jack shoulders shake in quiet sob. He leaned in over Ianto and carefully placed a kiss on his head.

He stood and waved Owen over to join him.

"I need you to remove the breathing tube."

Owen eyes went wide. "We can't, Jack. He's not able to breath on his own. It'll kill him."

Jack placed his hand on Owen's shoulder. "Trust me, Owen. I won't let him die."

"But how—"

Jack shook his head. "I can't explain it, but I can help. Please, just take the tube out."

Owen was torn. His knowledge and instincts were screaming at him all the reasons doing so was a bad idea, but there was something in Jack's eyes that made him believe he could do it, that he could save Ianto.

"I'll do it. But promise me, Jack, promise me you won't let him go."

"I promise."

Owen went to Ianto's side and watched his chest rise and fall a few more times. He felt like he should say something before he did it, but no words came. Instead, he glanced at Jack one more time and disconnected the hose. He quickly hit the button to silence the alarm and then gripped the tube protruded from his mouth. He pulled it out, and there was a terrible silence as nothing happened.

Ianto's body lay still. He truly looked dead.

His instincts started taking over and he moved to re-intubate him, but Jack pushed him out of the way.

"Stay back." Jack was leaning over Ianto. He lowered his lips to meet Ianto's still ones.

The kiss looked wrong and unnatural. Ianto wasn't kissing back, but Jack continued to work his mouth against his. Owen glanced at the clock. It had been nearly a minute since a breath had passed Ianto's lips. He was dying in front of him and Jack was letting him.

He growled, protectiveness and vengeful anger coursing through him. He was ready to throw Jack to the floor and beat him. He wanted to tear him to pieces and wait until he came back to do it again.

Another minute passed, and he couldn't watch any longer.

Ianto was dead. And now Jack would pay.

He charged at him, tearing him from Ianto. They both went to the ground in a mess of limbs. Owen's fist connected with Jack's face again and again.

Then something he never thought he'd hear again broke him free from his trance. It was hoarse and tired and oh so Ianto.

"Ow'n? Why are you killin' Jack?"


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I'm glad you have all enjoyed it and wanted to see this extended further. I hope you like it. Excuse any boo-boos. I am pooped and tend to miss things. I imagine I will give you at least one more chapter, and then I will probably start another story. If you have any suggestions on fics you would like to see, shout them out. I aim to please :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

A warm, tingling sensation traveled through Ianto's body. It pushed at the edges of the darkness he was trying to hide in. Everything about the sensation reminded him of life, and it terrified him. He didn't want to be brought back. He didn't want to go. He liked the darkness, the nothingness. It was safe and quiet and nothing ever hurt there.

It was like a golden light was forcing its way into him. As it grew brighter, he retreated further into the fading shadows. He tried to find some place to hide, but the light kept spreading. The warm glow found every spot in his being and set it afire.

Like it or not, he was coming back.

The first breath he took came with considerable pain. It burned his lungs. His throat felt raw and dry, and his chest ached. God, he didn't want to be back.

He forced his eyes open. His vision was blurry at first, but he blinked a few times and everything started coming into focus. He took in the IV attached to his arm and the monitors that were blinking away beside him. It didn't take much to realize that he was in a hospital.

Ugh. Apparently something had gone very wrong with his plans.

He couldn't understand what could have happened though. He had planned everything; there was nothing left to chance. He should be dead. What had pulled him so unwillingly from the darkness?

He hadn't fought his way back; in fact, he had tried to hold on to the nothingness with all his strength. The world around him now was harsh and painful. It was everything he had wanted to escape. It wasn't fair.

As he lay there, a strange noise caught his attention. There was something near him; it sounded like an animal. It was breathing heavy, nearly snarling.

Why was there an animal in a hospital?

There was a loud thwack beside him. Curious, he decided to investigate. Moving slowly, he turned his head to look. He winced at the pain he felt. His neck was killing him, or not actually, which he saw as rather unfortunate.

He wasn't prepared for the strangeness of what he saw beside him.

Owen was on the floor, straddling someone. Ianto could only see his back, but he was able to discern that the thumping and grunting sounds were coming from the doctor. Owen, for some strange reason, was pummeling the life out of the man beneath him.

He couldn't quite decide what to do about the sight he was seeing. He wondered if maybe this was some strange dream. It really would be his luck to be trapped in some twisted hallucination with Owen starring as the main attraction. He really hoped that wasn't the case.

Being careful of his neck, he tried to see who Owen was hitting, but he couldn't quite make out who it was. He hoped it was at least someone who deserved it.

Well, if this was a product of his warped imagination, he reasoned, he should be able to have some control.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to will his mind to change the dream. He wanted Jack here. It would be nice to see Jack. Because if one was going to be hallucinating, Jack would a very good choice to include.

He opened his eyes again and glanced around the room. He was felt disappointed; there was no Jack. So, he either sucked at controlling his own thoughts or this was real. He hoped it was the former because the latter meant … Ugh, he didn't want to think about it.

A noise close to a growl drew his attention back to the fight unfolding beside him. Owen's body shifted just slightly, and he was able to catch a glimpse of the man beneath him. And that's when he saw it, the tails of the blue, woolen coat splayed out on the floor.

Jack was on the floor. Not exactly how he planned on including him in his little mental breakdown. He was hoping for more of a shift to a nice beach and less clothing.

Well, at least he was able to confirm that this was, in fact, some sort of dream, albeit a fucked up one.

What confused him was the violence of the curious hallucination. He wondered what part of his mind had produced this little screwed up scene and why. Maybe it had some deep meaning he wasn't grasping, maybe something related to his childhood.

After a few seconds, he realized he should probably inquire why Dream Owen was trying to kill his Dream Jack. Because really, killing him was very counterproductive to his overall plan for this hallucination.

He picked up his head and tried to shift to see them better. He would simply ask him. The direct approach was always best.

"Ow'n? Why are you killin' Jack?"

xXx

Owen couldn't believe what he was seeing. Ianto was alive, awake, and talking. The Londoner was fairly sure his mouth was hanging agape as his brain caught up with the sight before him.

He was so stunned, he forgot all about Jack being beneath him. But Jack hadn't. He used the momentary pause to his advantage and shoved Owen off on to the floor with a thud.

"Fuck, Harkness," Owen cursed as he scrambled to his feet.

He was about to turn on the Captain again, but was stopped by the sound of Ianto croaking out their names.

"Jack? Owen?" Ianto's eyes were wide as he looked between Jack and him.

Jack was beside Ianto in a second. He was trying to comfort the obviously confused younger man. Ianto was rambling on about someone named Dream Owen and apologizing because he wasn't normally so aggressive. If that wasn't odd enough, Ianto then went on to ask Jack why he wasn't naked on a beach; at which point Owen knew, he completely off his rocker.

"Owen, tell Jack you're sorry," the obviously delusional Welshman said.

Owen scoffed. "Don't think so, mate. The stunt he pulled nearly killed you."

Ianto scrunched his brow and his bottom lip puffed out in a pout. It would have been adorable on a six year old, but on Ianto, it just looked ridiculous. "Owen, please?"

"Oh, don't you dare go 'Owen' me all cute and innocent like that!"

He charged over to the bedside, standing next to Jack. Owen reached a hand around the Captain and began patting down his pockets in a furious frenzy of movement.

Jack, for once, was caught off guard and stepped back in shock. "What are you doing?"

Owen grumbled, ignoring the Captain's question. He shoved a hand into the inside pocket of Jack's coat. He felt the cool metal, and he knew he had found what he was looking for. He grinned as he pulled out his prize.

"I was looking for these," he said, waving the handcuffs.

Jack gave him an incredulous look. "What do you—"

He stopped abruptly when he caught Owen's intent.

"I'm making sure this stupid fuck doesn't try to throw himself out a window when I'm not looking."

He took Ianto's arm, who still looked confused as hell about what was happening, and slapped one of the cuffs around his wrist and the other around the bedrail.

Ianto was looking between the cuffs and Jack, his eyes pleading. "Jack?"

His voice sounded painfully rough, and it reminded Owen that he had no idea how much Jack's magical lips actually healed.

"There, that's better," Owen said, "and now that I know you're safe, welcome back."

"Owen!" Jack snapped, drawing another confused look from Ianto. "Can we have a word outside?" he seethed.

"No, I need to check this stupid fuck out first, unless you can tell me just what the spit swapping session fixed."

Jack narrowed his eyes at the doctor, but gave him a nod to continue for now. It was clear though that he was working on a short leash.

A fit of coughs broke from Ianto's chest. Jack began trying to comfort him while Owen grabbed a stethoscope from the counter. He listened to Ianto's lungs and was relieved to hear nothing too concerning. He then felt over Ianto's neck. It was still swollen and bruised, and noting the whimper that it drew from him, it was also rather painful.

The physical damage wasn't what concerned him though, it was the emotional. Ianto was fucked up. This attempt wasn't a cry for help. He hadn't laid hints so someone would come save him; he had just gone and done it. And that scared Owen. It meant that Ianto truly believed he was alone. That he was nothing but a hindrance to those around him. It wasn't going to be easy to change that.

It was still taking some effort for Owen to adjust to Ianto actually being here and alive, and it made him want to kill him all over again. Part of him wanted to cry and hold his friend, thanking god he wasn't dead, and the other wanted to beat the stupid prick for pulling such a selfish stunt.

Another round of barking coughs tore from Ianto, causing the doctor to wince in sympathy at the painful sound.

"Jack, sit him up a bit."

Jack slid an arm under his shoulders and eased him into a sitting position. Owen adjusted the pillows so they would support him better. "There you go, Yan. That should be a bit more comfy for ya."

Jack laid him back down and tucked the blanket under his arms.

"How do some ice chips sound to you?" Owen asked.

Ianto nodded. "Please."

Owen called the nurse and had a cup of ice brought in for Ianto. Jack took them and began spooning pieces into Ianto's mouth.

Ianto scowled at Jack. "I can do it. Not a child."

Jack gave him a pleading look. "Let me help you, please."

Ianto rolled his eyes, but opened his mouth despite the protest. Jack promptly deposited another small piece between his lips.

"Thanks," Ianto mumbled around the ice.

Owen stood back and watched them. Even though Jack was trying to hide it, Owen could see the pain in his eyes. It made him look older somehow, more human than he had remembered him being before.

He really wasn't sure what to do next. If this wasn't Torchwood and he didn't think of Ianto like a brother, it would be simple. He would ship Ianto off for an evaluation and a stay at the psych ward, but this _was_ Torchwood and he _did_ think of the stubborn twat like a brother. As much as he hated it, it seemed he was going to have to work with Jack to find a solution.

He listened as Ianto quietly tried to apologize to Jack again. He had tried a few times now, but Jack had refused to accept them.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jack soothed the younger man. "Try not to think about it now, alright? We can talk more later, but first we need to get you healthy."

Ianto nodded and then turned his tired gaze on Owen. "I shouldn't ha—"

Owen sighed and rested a hand on Ianto's arm. "Hey, you need to relax. Jack's actually right for change. You're sick, mate. What's done is done; we just need to focus on getting you better."

Ianto's lip began to tremble and Owen felt the need to reassure the man. "Look, Yan. It's gonna be alright. We'll all help you through this. And I only cuffed you because I care. I don't want to lose you, none of us do."

A small smile played on Ianto's lips. "You just wanted to handcuff me to a bed."

Owen smirked. "Yeah, you're just so irresistible."

"At least you admit it."

Owen laughed. "Well, I think we should call the girls and let them know you're awake. Just be prepared to be mollycoddled, those two women have been fretting over you for weeks."

Ianto's eyes went wide."Weeks?"

"Yeah, you've been in the land of nod for just over two weeks."

"Oh," Ianto said.

Jack sat down on the bed and nudged Ianto over to make room. The handcuffs rattled as he shifted, and Jack gave Owen a look that seemed to speak volumes about Owen's choice of securing Ianto to the bed.

"I'll take them off, Jack, if, you put them back on as soon as you get up." He glanced at Ianto. "I mean it. From now on, he doesn't so much as take a piss without someone watching." Owen unlocked the cuffs and tossed them to Jack.

"I can't go when someone's watching."

"Learn."

Jack smiled wolfishly. "I can help with that."

"Jesus, Jack, keep your kinks to yourself," Owen complained.

Jack chuckled and pulled Ianto into his side.

Owen picked up the chart from the end of the bed and scribbled some notes. "I'm going to send Respiratory Therapy down to set you up on some humidified air, in the mean time, try and get some and rest and don't think too much."

Ianto yawned and snuggled in closer to Jack. "'kay."

Jack placed a kiss to the top of Ianto's head. "I'll take care of him. Go get some rest, Owen. You look like shit."

When he got to the waiting room, he gave the girls a call and filled them in on what had happened. They'd apparently already bumped into Jack. He had appeared in the Hub in a blaze of glory expecting a happy reunion, and then Gwen had slapped him across the face, followed by Tosh berating him for being such a spectacular failure.

He wished he had seen them going at him like that. He grinned when he recalled that the cameras would have recorded the whole event. He knew what he would be watching later.

He headed out of the hospital and to his car. He needed a drink, a shower, and some sleep. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in months. He missed his bed.

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his scruffy face.

For the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe again.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy the last chapter/epilogue. I have two stories sitting in front of me right now that I'm working on. One is a Ianto/Owen short story; they are stuck in a time loop. The other is a one-shot and is a big ball of Ianto-centric fluff; I was feeling bad for myself because I am sick, so I shared my ills with Ianto and made Owen and Jack care for him.

Also, I could use a pre-reader (aka: what-the-fuck-were-you-thinking-writing-that-reader.) Please PM me if you would like to be assaulted by random one-shots and short stories. Thanks :)

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><p><span>Epilogue<span>

It may have taken six months, but things finally seemed to settle into a new normal.

Owen had spent the first few weeks after Ianto was discharged working closely with an old colleague, learning what he could do to help Ianto. Owen found Ianto was suffering from PTSD and a good bit of depression.

For a few months, Owen held true to his promise about not leaving Ianto alone. He or Jack escorted Ianto wherever he went. The girls got in on the action too. Tosh moved her workstation to the archives so Ianto could work and Gwen took the opportunity to take him under her wing and mother him any chance she got.

Ianto didn't argue about the extra steps they took. Owen was fairly sure he realized that they needed to take care of him as much as he needed it. Seeing him hanging from that belt had given them all nightmares; enough so, that Owen had taken both Gwen and Tosh aside on a few occasions to make sure that they weren't heading down a similar path.

When Ianto asked Owen if he would like to hold it while he pissed, he decided it was time to let him have some freedom.

The experience had changed Owen. He had discovered that he and Ianto had a lot in common. They had similar childhoods and tough upbringings. They also shared the loss of someone they loved. They grew closer the more they talked. There were a few times when it seemed Ianto was helping _him _rather than the other way around. And in time, they were able to talk about Katie and Lisa without either of them shedding a tear.

Jack had made a habit of pulling Ianto aside throughout the day. It was obvious how pained Jack was over what had happened in his absence. They had begun spending nights together after leaving the hospital, either at the Hub or Ianto's flat. The arrangement seemed to be having a positive affect.

Owen had witnessed just how close the two of them had become. He was leaving the Hub late one night when he saw them. They were standing together in Jack's office. The door was open just enough for Owen to catch a glimpse, but it was enough to see how meaningful their relationship had become.

They stood facing each other. Owen could see they were talking. Ianto was tracing Jack's side in slow, languid strokes as he spoke. Something he said caused Jack to shake his head. He reached up and cupped the younger man's cheek, forcing him to look at him. Whatever it was he said, Ianto finally seemed to agree and nodded.

Their foreheads touched and Ianto's eyes closed. The trust and love between the two of them seemed to fill the whole of the Hub. There simple touches were more intimate than anything else could have been.

It seemed like they were all moving forward, and Jack and Ianto were getting what they needed, each other.

xXx

Owen had just finished cleaning up his autopsy table when an idea struck him. He flicked his gloves into the bin and charged up the stairs.

"Gwen, have you seen Ianto?"

"I think he just left Jack's office, heading toward the archives, I think."

"Thanks." He patted Gwen on the back as he headed off to find him.

"Ianto," he called down the hall in the lower level.

He listened for a response but heard nothing.

"Where are you?"

Owen paused for a moment, a feeling of déjà vu coming over him. He thought back to when he had first found Ianto lain on the floor. He had to swallow back the sick feeling the memories brought. He had to remind himself how far Ianto had come, how far they had _both _come.

"Ianto!" he shouted, but still there was no response.

Even though he was fairly confident Ianto was safe, he still began walking faster.

He hurried along towards Ianto's office. When he didn't see the Welshman at his desk, his mind began flashing images of his friend hanging from his belt.

"Yan!" He jogged toward the back storage area. "Answer me!"

Owen halted in his steps when Ianto popped out from behind a shelf. His brow was knit together in concern. He reached up and plucked an ear bud from his ear.

He'd had his iPod on. Relief washed over the him.

"Owen, what's wrong?"

Owen put his hands on his hips, catching his breath."Nothing, just looking for you."

Ianto placed the box he was holding on the floor. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ianto had no idea how close to the truth his statement was. For Owen, for just a moment, he thought he had.

"I'm fine. I just came down to ask you if you'd want to go out to the pub tonight? My treat."

Ianto raised a brow. "You're paying?"

Owen feigned hurt. "I'm not a complete bastard. I can be charitable."

Ianto nodded. "Okay."

"Okay? You'll actually allow yourself to be seen in public with me?"

Ianto shrugged. "The witnesses will all be so pissed they won't remember."

"Good point. Grab me when you're finished."

"Will do."

xXx

Owen had tried to only allow Ianto a small amount of alcohol, knowing the meds he was on. But the effort was in vain, as three beers in and Ianto was completely rat-arsed.

Ianto was trying to explain, rather badly, what Jack meant to him. It was priceless. Owen sat and listened to his babbling friend and nodded his head like he understood, even though he was certain no one could follow Ianto's comparisons.

"Jack is like … like a … what are those things called, the ones with the big—" Ianto then began waving his hand in the air, and really Owen was having a hard time controlling his mirth –"Ears!" Ianto shouted, slapping the table. "They have big ears. What was I talking about?"

"Jack and big ears."

"Oh yeah, Jack is like a rabbit. He can just keep going—"

"Yan, please stop." Owen laughed.

"I'm tired." Ianto yawned and closed his eyes, and for a moment, Owen thought he had fallen asleep at the table. He nudged him with his foot.

His eyes snapped back open and he reached for his drink.

"Oh no you don't. I think you've had quite enough for one night."

He looked genuinely hurt by Owen denying him.

"Ow'n," he hiccupped, "do you like me better than your pet mold?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"My question, so answer it."

He leaned back and crossed his arms. "Of course I do."

"How much more?"

Owen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "A lot more."

"A lot, lot more?"

"Yan, where is this going?"

Ianto shrugged and then snatched back his drink before Owen could stop him.

"Just curious," he said, hiccupping again. "You know what?

"What?" Owen smirked, awaiting whatever absurdity that would spill from him next.

"I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too, Ianto." Owen smiled at the drunken man. "Me too."


End file.
